


sweet dreams are made of these

by Darth Occlus (NotSummer)



Series: divergance (complete) [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Pre-Relationship, Self-Doubt, Sharing a Bed, Undercover as Married, Undercover as a Couple, look its all the tropes but i was having a bad day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 05:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSummer/pseuds/Darth%20Occlus
Summary: ---He nodded, his eyes far away. There was something wistful hanging around him in the Force, but she didn’t press, instead hiding her curiosity with amusement. “If you’re going to act this stiffly around me, they’re going to know we’re not who we say we are.”“Right,” he muttered, “Newly wed rich elites with more money than sense and easy prey for the Seppies.” He looked disgruntled at the very idea, and she couldn’t hide a laugh. His face eased at the giggle she tried to hide, and he hesitated and reached out, his hands hovering over hers.She flipped her hands over, weaving her fingers between his. “Better,” she said. “You know how to dance, right?”---





	1. Chapter 1

“I don’t feel ready,” Jesse admitted, quietly, with his face turned away.

Slowly, she finished adjusting her headpiece, and turned to her partner, who was playing the part of her new husband for tonight. His tattoo had been hidden, and the scuffed and worn armor had been traded in for a well fitted suit that wouldn’t have been out of place among the Coruscanti elite. “Me neither,” she replied, reaching out to adjust his tie.

He let her, breathing out. “I thought I was the only one nervous.” His hands hung at his sides, twitching slightly.

“You’re not,” she admitted, pulling the thin shawl around her shoulders closer. Her dress was a deep royal blue, with gold and black accents around her shoulders, with layers of sheer fabric. She felt beautiful, and Jedi were not supposed to be beautiful. “But it’s the mission, so we’ll play the part.”

Jesse nodded, his eyes far away. There was something wistful hanging around him in the Force, but she didn’t press, instead hiding her curiosity with amusement. “If you’re going to act this stiffly around me, they’re going to know we’re not who we say we are.”

“Right,” he muttered, “Newly wed rich elites with more money than sense and easy prey for the Seppies.” Jesse looked disgruntled at the very idea, and she couldn’t hide a laugh. His face eased at the giggle she tried to hide, and he hesitated and reached out, his hands hovering over hers.

Miyala flipped her hands over, weaving her fingers between his. “Better,” she said. “You know how to dance, right?”

“You’re asking me _now_?”

“I should have thought about it before,” she conceded. “But I didn’t.”

“You’re lucky I know something, then,” he said, pulling her closer, and then moving one of his hands to his waist, guiding her into a slow musicless waltz.

Her heartbeat stuttered at his closeness, and she swallowed her apprehension down. Just being near him wrecked every attempt at keeping herself serene like a Jedi should. Miyala couldn’t quite stop herself from leaning into him, closing her eyes as they swayed to a song neither of them could hear.

Slowly the awkwardness faded, but the tension only changed shades, turning into something she struggled to define. She reopened her eyes, looking back up at him, to find him studying her. “I suppose as newlyweds, our best chance to sneak off and copy the Seppie data drives will be to act like we’re finding a secluded spot.”

“It’s a good plan,” she admitted. “Make it obvious we can’t keep our hands off each other and then disappear for a little bit.”

He smirked. “And if we look satisfied…”

She laughed, bending her head down. “That’s true.” She looked back up at him. She hesitated, knowing what she wanted to say, but not knowing how to say it. Finally, she fumbled, “If… If we don’t look… familiar…” She trailed off.

He blinked in surprise, and then his expression went pensive. “You’re probably right,” he replied, watching her carefully as he let go of her hand and her waist to raise his hands to cup her cheeks. His thumbs traced the outlines of her lips as he leaned down, eyes on hers, watching for any hint that wanted to push him away.

She wanted him closer, but she couldn't say that, so she closed the distance herself, her eyes fluttering closed as their lips met. It was reserved, chaste, and she pulled back so she could whisper, “Kiss me like you mean it.”

He met her eyes steadily, and then murmured, “Alright.” Jesse pulled her closer, meeting her challenge, one of his arms wrapping around her waist to hold her tight against him as he kissed her, his tongue slipped into her mouth. Her own hands clenched on his shirt, as she kissed him back. Slowly he pulled away, and she barely managed to hold in the whine at the loss of contact.

“That better?” He looked… smug, the bastard.

She nodded, still off balance. This mission was going to ruin her.

His smirk turned into a grin at her silence, and she tried to cover up a snort at his preening. “Don’t be smug,” she grumbled at him.

He dropped his hands from around her waist, and only said, “You were speechless.”

She rolled her eyes, raising her hands to smooth out the wrinkles her hands had left in his shirt. He looked more attractive this way, the suit ever so slightly mussed as she neatened it as much as possible. “I was not,” she protested weakly.

The teasing seemed to lighten his mood and ease his anxieties, but as she started to move towards the door it returned. “Gen-. Miya-. Nalah,” he started, finishing with her cover’s name.

Jesse didn’t need one: he had no citizenship records and he had no name on file, so it was easy enough for him to use his own name. She swallowed her bitterness at the thought.

“I’m not… I was lucky to get ARC training, I’m just a normal trooper. I should be on the front lines.  Not here. Not with you.” He clenched his hands in front of him, shifting on his feet, watching her carefully.

She moved back towards him, her hands wrapping around his wrists. “I don’t have any answers for you. All I can do is suggest you channel that disbelief on this mission.”

“So what,” he started, “Act like I can’t believe I’m here with you? Act like I can’t believe I have you in my arms? Act like it’s amazing I’m the one who gets to kiss you?” He looked away from her, his eyes focusing on the carpet.

For a second, Miyala could believe the emotion behind the words was for her, and not him feeling out of place on this mission. She knew otherwise though. “Something like that,” she murmured, “Yes.” She squeezed her fingers gently, feeling the muscles contract under her fingertips. “I couldn’t ask for a better partner. You know that, right?”

“Now you’re just being nice,” Jesse muttered, but he lightened, and taking a deep breath, wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he heaved a deep breath. “Alright. Let’s go be newlyweds then.”

Force, she wished. She tucked her growing affection for him deeper, and smiled up at him, selfishly enjoying his arms around her as they danced through the night, stealing kisses when she could. It would have to be enough: she wasn’t fool enough to think he loved her back.


	2. Chapter 2

Force, she was exhausted. Between keeping an eye out for potential enemies, pretending to be in love with Jesse while also pretending she wasn’t in love with him, and spending the night dancing with him, she was drained. They were still in public though, so she leaned her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around him but underneath his jacket as they stood in a secluded corner. “Cold?”

“A little,” she mumbled. As layered as her dress was, it did little to protect her from the chilly drafts in the ballroom. Snuggled against him, she was both protected from the cold and playing her part.

He chuckled softly, and then shrugged off his jacket, tucking it around her shoulders. “Gala’s not over yet, Nalah,” he reminded her gently, using her cover’s name. For a minute, she imagined him saying her own name in the gentle tone he used. But it was only a reminder none of this was real.

“I know,” she whispered. She stepped onto his feet, her soft, tractionless frivolous sandals unable to discomfort him through the sturdy boots he was wearing. “I just want to go back to our room.” She had been pulling on the Force all night, with little reprieve. Illusions and tricks and hunting and listening.

“Nalah? Do you need to go back?” His hands wrapped around her tighter as they swayed in time with the slow beat of the music. His thumbs rubbed circles over her shoulder blades, and she melted against him.

“I think I’m alright for a little bit longer,” she said, before yawning. “Or not,” she said guiltily.

“You’re practically falling asleep in my arms,” Jesse said, amused.

“You won’t let me fall.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she felt Jesse tense.

“No,” he said eventually, “I’ve got you. No falling here.”

She nodded, and he relaxed. Miyala heard a soft sigh and turned her head to fix her eyes on the woman. An elderly Zeltron woman smiled at both of them, and Miyala managed a smile back. She heard Jesse say, “Ma’am,” and the Zeltron lady chortled.

“Young love. Always good to see it. Good luck to the both of you.”

“Thank you,” Miyala replied, dipping her head.

Mischief gleamed in her yellow eyes. “There’s going to be a speaker, and if you want to hurry back to your room instead, well, you better get going. Treat each other well,” she finished, winking at them before she tottered off.

Jesse snorted. “Maybe we should head out then.”

Miyala eyed the door and groaned.

“Nalah.”

She buried her head back in his chest, and then muttered. “Fine.” She stepped off his feet, moving to his side instead as they strolled towards the door. She was suddenly acutely aware of the datachips stuffed within her dress.

After the door to the ballroom closed behind them, the floor suddenly disappeared from under Miyala’s feet. She yelped.

“You are not moving very quickly tonight,” Jesse said, one arm under her knees and the other under her back.

She blinked owlishly, and then wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling into his chest. “Nope,” she said quietly. “Are we alone?” she asked eventually.

“Yeah,” he replied. “What do you need, Miyala?”

She snuggled in closer at her name, and then admitted, “I’m actually… really worn out. From the Force. It was… a lot.” She yawned again, and added, “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Ah,” he said, “You’d have been fine. Hold on, I’m opening the door.”

She clung tighter, allowing him to free one arm to jiggle open the door to their room. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve gotten used to someone having my back. And I… enjoyed tonight.”

“So did I,” he conceded, setting her down on their bed.

She crawled for the covers, wrapping them around her, and he muttered, “Hog.”

“A bit,” she said, fighting back a yawn as her eyes fluttered closed. She was so tired. She only roused a few minutes later when he yanked the blankets back from her. Half into the world of dreams, she followed the blankets, snuggling up next to her partner.

“You’re a damn furnace,” she heard him say, as if from a great distance, and she fell into a heavy slumber, his arms wrapping around her.

She shot up suddenly, in the middle of the night. Her eyes flicked around the room, taking in the suitcase with their hidden armor and robes and weapons, and the light of the eight moons streaming in through the windows, turning everything a gleaming bronze. The red-black night sky hung outside the windows, and she squinted at the clock across the room. 0256.

She looked down at Jesse, remembering what had woken her. His arms wrapped around her, still keeping her close to him, even as he snored quietly. The elderly Zeltron from the evening before floated through her mind. Young love, she’d said, looking at both of them. Zeltrons were empaths: emotion was no stranger to them. She should have been able to call them out, to tell they were faking being love.

But she had looked at them and said they were in love.

It wasn’t possible.

She stared at Jesse, wondering if it was.


End file.
